


See me in the firelight

by NightValdez



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, a bit of a yasha character study?, c2e111 spoilers, shipping is low key
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightValdez/pseuds/NightValdez
Summary: Yasha deals with the revelation that her best friend might not actually be dead.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	See me in the firelight

“What are we going to do?”

Yasha looked over at Beau. She was staring out into the darkness, staff by her side. The top of her robes billowed slightly in the gentle breeze. Firelight danced against her back, flickers of light catching her jawline and cheekbones every so often. Her hair was still tied up. Yasha didn’t think she had ever seen Beau with her hair down. It looked much longer now than when they had first met. She wondered what it looked like down. How it would look hanging over the shaved sides. There was no chance her hair was soft after all this time on the road and all the flecks of blood that had landed there. What would it look like in this breeze? 

“Yasha?”

The barbarian’s attention snapped back. What had Beau asked, what were they going to do.

“About what?”

Beau turned to look at her, “About Molly.”

This time, Yasha was the one who turned away. Molly. Her first friend in the Nein. The person who had grabbed her torn up self and pulled her along until she started to walk along on her own. The man who had watched her piece herself back together and never once passed judgement. The one who followed her into hell and paid the price. It had been months, but she could still feel his absence from her side as keenly as ever. Molly was the one she had always came home to. And now he was wandering through the northern snow. Beau was right, what were they going to about him.

Finally, Yasha turned back to Beau. “I don’t know” she whispered. Beau was still looking at her though. She took a deep breath. “What if – what if it’s not Molly? What if he’s empty again? What if he doesn’t remember who he is – who we are?” They had changed but not so much that Molly wouldn’t recognise them. Well, maybe he wouldn’t recognise Veth, but Yasha’s scars and Beau’s longer hair hadn’t made them unrecognisable. But what if he did remember? She hated to think of their Molly, her Molly, dragged back into a past he had never wanted to remember.

Beau didn’t hesitate. She reached out and rested her hand on Yasha’s. The barbarian’s eyes snapped down to their connected hands then back to Beau. Their eyes met. Beau’s eyes should have been completely different to Molly’s. The monk’s eyes were a piercing blue compared to Molly’s blood red. But there was something comforting about them. Beau’s eyes were always looking for something, always searching. Inquisitive, but never unfocused. They showed an intelligence that the monk tried her hardest to hide but never quite could. Beau saw more than she would ever let on. 

When Beau looked at Yasha, she felt seen.  
Mollymauk had seen her too.  
So had Zuala.

Maybe that’s what scared her. Yasha was quiet, she knew. Her bulk made her easy to spot, but people never saw her. They saw the big quiet lady and her sword and left it at that. An anomaly to be avoided or someone you wanted on your side in a fight. Not those three though. Those three people had looked at the monochromatic barbarian and instead of taking her at face value, they had looked a little deeper. They had seen the Orphan Maker and looked for Yasha hidden underneath. And then they died. First her wife, then her best friend. Always trying to help her, see her, and what had it gotten them. Beau had nearly joined them. Lying on that cathedral floor, blood staining the tiles. She had nearly joined them.

But she hadn’t.

The clerics had gotten to her in time. Beau was alive. And now, Molly might be too.

“If it’s really Molly, why didn’t he come back to us?” Yasha asked, her eyes not leaving Beau’s.

Beau leaned back slightly, almost as if she had gotten too close, and shrugged.

“I can’t pretend I really knew him,” she said, “I mean, I knew the guy for what, three months? I didn’t know him like you did. I don’t know what he was like last time he died. But there’s two situations here. Either it isn’t Molly, and he’s out of it again and running with the Tomb Takers again. Or it is Molly.”

Beau ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “If it is him, and he wanted to look for one of us, he’d look for you. And don’t take this the wrong way, the mysterious disappearing into a storm was sexy and all, but it made you difficult to follow.”

Yasha could sense there was something else coming.

“Or it is him and he remembers, and he woke up in his own grave again and we had abandoned him.”

There it was.

Beau wasn’t looking at Yasha anymore. Her eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

Yasha wasn’t stupid. She had noticed Beau’s feelings about abandonment. They were hard to miss sometimes, especially back with the hag. Her family had abandoned her from the looks of things, so had her so-called friends in Kamordah. Yasha had always gotten the impression that the monks at the Cobalt Soul hadn’t been particularly attached to her either before she became Dairon’s protégée. Beau probably couldn’t imagine a worse feeling than dying for your friends only to have them abandon you too.

The barbarian swore she could hear the monk’s brain begin to spiral. Quickly, she grabbed back at Beau’s hand, pulling her back to reality. The affect was instantaneous. Blue eyes snapped back to attention, seeing again instead of drifting away.

“We won’t know until we find him,” Yasha said, voice barely above a whisper. Beau’s face seemed to settle in determination, and she gave a sharp nod. The barbarian gave her a soft smile and the monk returned it.

That’s what always captured Yasha’s attention with Beau. Sometimes they tripped over their words like embarrassed children but in moments like this, they didn’t need words. A hand squeezed hers and she knew Beau understood her. No matter what happened tomorrow, they would figure it out, together.

They sat in silence for a while before Jester called out.

“Beau! Look at what I drew!”

Beau’s head snapped around to look for the blue tiefling. Yasha turned around too and spotted Jester running towards them, leather-bound notebook in hand. The girl came to a halt right next to them, turning the page so they could see the drawing. It was them, hand in hand, firelight dancing across their backs as they looked into each other’s eyes. It looked romantic, if Yasha was being honest. Unsurprising given Jester’s love of love. But the painting made sense in a way. She wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud but maybe a romantic leaning wasn’t completely untrue. And she was half-sure it wasn’t one sided.

“That’s dope Jessie” Beau said.

“I know, right!” Jester squealed. The tiefling began to explain her process, rambling about how cute they had looked in the firelight. Beau listened intently, eyes focused on Jester, but Yasha noticed she hadn’t pulled her hand away.

Yeah, she hoped it wasn’t one-sided.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it gay to look into your homie's eyes and realize that they See You? Asking for a friend.  
> It's been so long since I wrote anything, nevermind the literal years since I last wrote fanfiction. It's nice to write something that isn't for university. Hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought. Also, I apologise for any mistakes, this is unbeta-ed.


End file.
